Chase This Light
by space77
Summary: A series of stand-alone one-shots, rating set at M for future installments. Chapter 5, Rated T - Hodgins and Angela. "And he can't help his smile as a word catches his eye. Daddy." FLUFF!
1. I'm a suspect, I'm a traitor

**"Chase This Light" will be a series of stand-alone one-shots based around the FOX television show 'Bones' and its characters. Each "chapter" or one-shot will be based in part on the lyrics of the title song, _Chase This Light_ by Jimmy Eat World.**

**(the lyrics and download link can be found in my profile). **

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**Chase This Light #1**

_I'm a suspect, I'm a traitor…_

**Rating (this chapter):** T/PG-13

**Spoilers:** 04x09: The Conman in the Meth Lab

**Timeline:** filler scene for 04x09: The Conman in the Meth Lab

**Word Count:** 1,027

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the show or the characters found on Bones– they are the property of FOX, Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs and the respective actors who fill those roles. Similarly, I do not own the song "Chase This Light" or the band Jimmy Eat World. The music with which they inspire is courtesy of Interscope Records and themselves as songwriters and lyricists.

**A/N:** This one has been a long time brewing… inspired completely by **DOC3**'s post-ep for CitML_ (Part I, Swallowing Razors)_. (www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 4660325/ 1/ Swallowing_Razors) The brilliant exchange between Booth & Cam at the end of the first chapter of that story can be held directly responsible for this, and I guess you could even say that the events of that story happened just prior to the events of this story. All credit for inspiration goes to **DOC3** and I urge you to read her story prior to reading this one.

Many thanks to **lizook** for the thorough beta-work and the reassurance and cheerleading I needed to keep me going on this one.

This story is especially dedicated to my twin and BFF, **TemperTemper** – if memory serves, this is the only story she has not seen prior to post-time. Love you, hon – hope you like it. Happy Birthday!!

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Early evening finds him sitting in the dark, the only illumination from the single bulb of the goose-neck lamp directly over his work surface. A cloth is spread over the coffee table tonight rather than laptops, paperwork or even a child's board game.

That it's just past sunset, the day of his birthday is of minor concern. He's just returned home, leaving his partner at the hospital with her boss and injuries that could have been… well, _worse_.

But he couldn't stay, duty called – debriefings, prelim reports, witness statements – all those things that surround a violent death in his line of work. But now, alone in his home, alone with his thoughts, guilt assuages him like an old friend, caresses him as a lover; oh, they've been pals for years now.

And he just couldn't stay.

The random screech of tires outside his drawn blinds fails to distract him as he pulls a bag from the pocket of his discarded suit coat and lays it on the cloth before him. Darkness – dark black metal, dark red stains – is thick and visible through the translucent plastic. Pulling apart the mangled evidence tape – (it had been cleared quickly, having not even been fired this time) – he pulls his gun from the bag.

_His_ gun. _Her_ blood.

His bare hands shake slightly and he balls them into tight fists after placing the pistol on the clean cloth.

_Her blood_.

It shines under the bright light of the lamp, the heaviest smudges along the left-hand grip and along the slide - he tilts the gun into the light for a better view - and yes, along the trigger. She had been more than ready to take care of the situation if he hadn't… couldn't. Even with her non-dominant hand, even injured, even not being a cop.

His already stone-black eyes harden even more and he shakes his head once, forcefully. What she's taken on and endured because of him, in spite of him… she hasn't been trained for this kind of work in this kind of world. Another layer to heave upon the existing thick blanket of culpability he's wrapped around his shoulders this evening.

His hands uncurl and begin to move surely, automatically disassembling the pistol into its basic parts.

_Magazine._

She had essentially betrayed him today.

_Slide._

Betrayed him, doubted him – to his own brother, no less – and she was the one who months ago had asked if he would betray her.

_Frame._

How could he tell her then that he felt he already had, so many times? _"No, I'm not going to betray you, Bones."_ Should we add _fucking liar_ into the blanket's weave as well?

_Barrel._

But she had… And could he blame her? Not really. It's easy for him to push aside, especially after his responsibility in the debacle of this afternoon that had almost gotten her…

Another forceful shake of his head and his lips set in a grim line; he picks up an old rag, dips it into the dish of cleaning solvent and begins to scrub at the dried blood on the frame, the rag coming away stained a dark crimson, almost black.

His thoughts flash back to the last time Bones had used his gun – _he_ had bled then, center-stage. His blood had stained the gun that time, transferred by her hands – was she the one who had cleaned it? (He hadn't gotten it back until much later and _someone_ had, though of course, he had re-done it and found dried remnants along the slide.)

This is worse.

_Her blood._

His injury may have been the more medically serious, but the knowledge of what could have… it's nearly devastating.

Cam's words from the hospital echo in his head: _"How long can you let her scare years off your life without owning up to your feelings?"_

Another dip into the viscous fluid in the dish, another part of his weapon (the barrel) cleansed of her blood - an unnecessary reminder of his transgressions.

As a soldier you learn that if you want to live to fight another day (or just _live_ another day) you keep a clean weapon. It's trained, ingrained – you don't eat, you don't sleep until that, at the very least, has been taken care of.

And peering into the barrel now, cleaning the inside thoroughly and by rote with the rod and patch – who on the front lines (military or law enforcement) hadn't thought of eating it at one point or another? Killers set free on technicalities. Never enough good, always more than enough evil. Feeling like any difference you make is just never enough.

Gordon Gordon had once asked him if he thought about suicide often, which he vehemently denied. But the truth is it had flickered there a time or two in his past… not lately though. Not really since his Pops had… and Parker and finally getting his "act" together. And never that he could pinpoint since Bones.

_"As long as it takes."_

"As long as it takes." The words keep repeating, the mantra in his head issuing from his lips as he attempts to scrub clean all traces of their day: her blood, a man dead by his hand, his partner at the hospital, a man's (reformed-alcoholic) father dead, his brother drinking and driving, his dreams dead.

_Her blood_.

He scrubs harder.

His cell buzzes on the edge of the table and the screen says 'Bones'. She's inviting him to a bar. "It's your birthday, Booth. Angela is picking up a cake."

But he barely hears the words, his mind focused solely on the sound of her… the _alive_ sound. Her tone is strong, almost _too_ vibrant, which only serves to increase his guilt. _No thanks to me... she could have been…_

He barely holds it together, quickly agreeing to meet them later - _I could definitely use a drink_ - before disconnecting and burying his face in his hands, scrubbing his eyes as he clenches them tight enough to see bright colors flashing through the black. It gives him something else to focus on besides the guilt, the pain, the knowledge of what _almost was_.

_fin.  
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Feedback is much appreciated.**


	2. I'm only here in body, visiting

**Chase This Light #1**

_I'm only here in body, visiting…_

**Rating (this chapter):** M

**Pairing: BOOTH/CAM** ---------- Please take note! ;)

**Spoilers:** 02x09: Aliens in a Spaceship

**Timeline:** filler scene for 02x09: Aliens in a Spaceship

**Word Count:** 826

**A/N:** Thank you to **bertie456** for the promptage. Hope you guys enjoy this one... **NOTE THE PAIRING AND THE RATING!** ;)

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~*~

The familiar knock at her door surprised her.

Maybe it shouldn't have, but there had been several times recently where she had sensed his reticence and... well, after the day they'd had it really could have gone either way. So she'd tried to push thoughts of him (and his whereabouts) out of her mind altogether, especially once it seemed he wasn't planning to show tonight.

The door felt heavy as she pulled it open, finding him standing on the other side, hands in his coat pockets.

"Seeley."

"Camille."

She stepped back to let him in.

~*~

They'd both showered away the grit of the day, finding gravel and ash and just "dirt" in places those things should never be.

And though a clean and good-smelling man sat beside her now, she could tell that he still felt the weight of it, the film of it still covered him, and at a time when they should both be feeling relief and celebrating life, the pallor of near-death and _what almost was_ hung heavily around him.

Without a word, she'd grabbed a bottle of scotch and two tumblers and they'd settled on her couch.

He drained his two-fingers shot and reached for the bottle on the table to refill.

She waited for him to sit back again before speaking. "Seeley, this wasn't your..."

His hand tightly gripped her thigh, effectively stopping her from continuing. She looked up into his eyes, black and heavy and silently pleading.

Taking her last sip, barely registering the burn in her throat, she placed her glass on the low table in front of them and turned to him, her friend, her...

His glass was empty again and dropped to the cushion beside them as they came together: her moving to straddle him as he pulled her in by her upper arms. His lips crashed down on hers - his need and desire palpable. His teeth immediately began nipping, his tongue providing soothing strokes on the heels of his aggressive actions.

She realized immediately that this was a side of Seeley Booth she had not been privy to before, not as a friend, not as a lover. She kept her eyes open, despite the dizzying effects his skill and lust were having on her. She watched, she interpreted - and despite what she was seeing here: a man on the edge, a man acting out of desperation, a man who kept his eyes clenched tightly shut, only allowing his other senses to "see" and react - she reciprocated.

They shared a past. They'd been through a lot together and she'd seen him in many a bad place. And long ago she'd determined she'd do pretty much anything for this man.

So she gave as good as she got, practically ripping his t-shirt off his body and attacking his neck with her lips, placing deep-sucking kisses along his shoulders as his fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her pajama pants.

His hands dipped below the waist of her pants to find her bare beneath. He grunted as he palmed her ass with both hands and pulled her tighter against him, thrusting right where she needed him most.

"Seeley..." Her cry of pleasure transformed into surprise as he lifted her with barely any registered effort and began walking toward her bedroom.

From that point on, their movements were frenzied, their coupling fast and furious, their release raging and explosive.

He collapsed on top of her, still filling her, his weight nearly crushing her, his face buried in the space between her neck and shoulder. They were both still breathing hard, still trembling, she could feel him twitching deep inside her.

His lips were moving on her neck, but she heard no sound. Her arms felt heavy as she began to stroke his back in soothing circles, the perspiration they'd worked up beginning to evaporate, dissipate from his overheated skin.

She felt moisture pooling on her shoulder and realized his post-coital trembling had given way to wracking sobs. "Booth?"

He cursed and tried to pull away from her, but she held tight to his shoulders and his arms seemed to give way beneath him.

"Shh... Seeley. It's okay. They're okay... we found them."

"Cam.." He couldn't seem to finish, the words stuck in his throat as he rolled to his side and pulled her with him, entangling his legs with hers and keeping his head buried in her neck.

Not immune to the onslaught of emotions they'd all felt today, she cried with him. Together their shock purged by their tears.

~*~

Just past dawn, her alarm began to blare the mellow tunes of a regional AM station.

She was already awake, a piece of paper clutched to her chest.

_Sorry not to be here when you wake up. Thank you for everything.  
Somewhere I have to be this morning. Some One to thank.  
We'll talk about New York...  
~S._

_fin.  
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_**Thank you for reading. Feedback is much appreciated.**_  
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	3. yellow faces and the distant screams

**Chase This Light #3**

… _yellow faces and the distant screams …_

**Rating (this chapter):** T/PG-13

**Pairing:** Booth/Brennan

**Spoilers:** 03x12: The Baby in the Bough

**Timeline:** This falls post-episode by about nine months and is set after my other Baby Andy fics, "A Night's Tale" and "The Last Night" which you can find here at FF. Would be awesome if you read those first, but not absolutely necessary. Just know that BB are ER (Established Relationship). ;)

**Word Count:** 1,449

**Disclaimer:** Found in Chapter 1

**A/N:** Thank you to **tempertemper** for a long ago beta. Do you even remember this one, babe? *blows away thick layer of dust* :)

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The screams of the young filled their ears – piercing, echoing. Physical proximity did nothing to alleviate the clamor, the reverberation; this just wasn't something they could run away from. Not that they were the type to run away.

And while it wasn't by circumstance, but by choice that they happened to be here, it was still _really_ fucking annoying.

"Bones, tell me again why we are in the company of countless shrieking children?"

"It's Andy's birthday, Booth. Come on, you have a son, you know what it's like."

"Yes, and he's over there whooping it up with the rest of them. The difference is, when it's my son, it's a prerequisite that I be there."

She gave him a look that said to shove it, only not in such nice terms. "We're here for Andy."

"He's one-year-old."

"And he's always happy to see us."

"He's one-year-old."

"Yes, I think we've established that."

He sighed dramatically, then continued, "I know why we're here, Bones, it's just…" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I can think of countless other activities I'd rather be engaging in on a Saturday afternoon." Eyebrow waggle.

They were sitting in the backyard of Carol and Jimmy Grant, the home of Andy, now replete with a patio full of toy construction vehicles, a jumbo-variety-assortment of balls, and a large wooden swing set – the latter currently teeming with noisy children.

The new bridge into town had made quite an impact on the lives of those in Huntsville. And they all owed a large debt of gratitude to Dr. Temperance Brennan. She was a celebrity in their midst – many people wanted to shake her hand or be introduced, while others remained afar and stole glances at her and her "partner". It was enough to make Booth feel a bit unsettled, but Brennan either seemed to simply ignore it or was really good at feigning obliviousness.

Booth raised his arm and let it rest along the back of his partner's lawn chair, his hand cupping her shoulder, fingers tracing light circles along the bare skin just below her cap-sleeved blouse.

"Booth, we were late picking up Parker because of our Saturday _morning_ activities – remember?"

"Mmhmm…" His eyes darkened as he remembered the look on her face when he… _Whoa, not thoughts to be having at a kid's birthday party, you idiot._

However, since they had become "involved" right after, and due to, the case with Andy, it was as if everything was a whirlwind. Things had changed, and yet seemed even more the same. Their professional partnership was more in-tune than ever – closed-case rates continued to be met or exceeded month after month. Work permitting, regular weekends with Parker were becoming the norm rather than the exception and as a result his son's love for Bones was growing by leaps and bounds.

And never… _never_ did the personal aspect of the relationship cross into the professional realm.

Hoo boy, _who was he kidding_? He wanted her _all the time_. Watching her bend over decaying things, squinting into her fancy microscopes, working in tandem during their interrogations - it never left him, that desire, that incessant need.

She seemed to be able to hold it together better than he could. At least she was better at waiting until they got home… _most_ times.

The beginning of a smile was born at the corner of his mouth as he moved his hand up her shoulder, brushing across the thin cotton of her light summer shirt to thread his fingers up under her loose and lightly curled hair – _au natural, of course, who had time to primp with Seeley Booth in their bedroom?_ His smile broadened even more at the adolescent thought, and he moved to massage her neck, allowing his fingertips to knead the soft flesh there. Though there should definitely be no tension left to work out – certainly the multiple orgasms of a few hours earlier had dissipated most of that. And a full Seeley Booth 100-kilowatt smile was now firmly in place at _that_ memory.

"Mmm… feels good…" she breathed softly, allowing her eyes to close a moment. His skilled fingers moved up farther into her hair to spread out and lightly scratch along her _occipital_ bone… hey, he listens, he learns.

He leaned in to her ear and huskily responded, "Yeah, who's wishing we were somewhere else now?" He bet if the tables were turned, they wouldn't be making it home _this_ time…

Her eyes popped open and she pulled back slightly to lean away from him in her chair. _If looks could kill… but what a way to go._

He just leaned back as well, carefully crossing his legs, and smirked, trying to convey his _you're gonna get it later_ thoughts as clearly as he could.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth – more lemonade?" Carol asked, approaching with a large plastic pitcher filled with the refreshing beverage, ice and fresh-sliced lemons.

Booth smiled at Brennan, "Wow! Just in time, huh?" Then to Carol he remarked, "We were just discussing how hot it's getting out here. Weren't we, Bones?" Brennan glared as he continued, "Thank you Carol. I think we'll both take a refill," and held up their red plastic cups.

"We're so glad you guys could make it. Andy loves seeing you both so much."

The one-year-old perched on her hip smiled at them and released a stream of baby babble. His fingers, almost constantly in his mouth, then flung forward, accompanied by a string of drool. "Ba-bye!" as he flapped the moist appendage.

"See, he wants us to leave, too," Booth said under his breath.

Brennan smacked her partner's crossed leg and stood. "Here, Carol, let me take him for a minute. He looks heavy."

"Oh, thank you, Dr. Brennan."

"Please, it's Temperance…"

Carol smiled and nodded, allowing Andy to be taken out of her arms and chuckling when his babble increased in fervor and intensity at the new attention.

"Oh really, is that so?" Brennan answered the little boy as she carried him back towards Booth. "Well, let's go tell grumpy old Uncle Booth all about it, shall we?"

"Not grumpy…" Booth pouted.

~o~

The remainder of the afternoon passed rather quickly with such distractions as bubble blowing contests, messy-cake-and-baby antics and a pick-up wrestling match between Booth, Parker and some of Andy's older cousins.

As they made their way back to DC, a thoroughly exhausted Little Man Booth passed out in his booster seat, Brennan placed a hand on the grass-stained knee of her partner and lightly squeezed. "So, do you regret coming today?"

He pulled her hand farther into his lap, entwining their fingers. "No way, Bones." He smiled. "I had a good time and Park had a blast."

At his response, an answering smile graced her lips.

"Besides," he continued, "you know I love that little guy. Andy is family." He pulled her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles, turning his eyes back towards the road.

Brennan leaned her head against the headrest in a rare moment, just watching her partner, best friend… and lover. It was something that no matter how much she thought about it, no matter how much time had passed, still felt brand new. It felt… right. And it was something that she had never expected to have – full trust, without doubt, in another (living) human being. She had to admit to herself, she rather enjoyed it.

"Thank you, Booth."

He stole a glance at her, gauging her expression, before responding, "For what, Bones?"

"For showing me that this kind of family is possible."

He smiled and softly squeezed her hand. "You're welcome, Temperance. And it's a two-way street, you know."

She smiled, briefly entertaining the verbalization of an 'I don't know what that means,' but then decided to let him off-the-hook this time. Instead, she pulled his hand across the console and rested their still-entwined hands on her lap, her thumb unconsciously brushing lightly across his first knuckle.

"Besides," he continued, "without that little guy, who knows where we'd be now."

Their eyes met across the vehicle as he pulled her hand to rest on the console between them – as always, meeting her halfway.

She turned to glance at the softly snoring little boy in the back seat before saying, "I like where we are now, Booth."

"Me too, Bones. Me too."

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**Have you gagged on the fluff yet? ;)**


	4. The beauty is in what we make it

**Chase This Light #4**

The beauty is in what we make it...

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**Rating (this chapter):** M - for sex, Booth's sexy potty mouth, and sex

**Pairing:** Booth/Brennan/cuffs. OTP.

**Spoilers:** Anything through S5 finale is fair game.

**Summary:** Booth and Brennan. A bed and handcuffs. ... It's not what you think. Okay, maybe it is... a little. ;)

**Word Count:** ~4,275

**Disclaimer:** Found in Chapter 1

A/N: **A/N:** This fic came about all because of the **cathmarchr**- and **ladychi**-sponsored ficdump at **bones_ga**. Prompt: **Booth and Brennan sharing a bed for some reason that isn't completely convoluted, during which sexytiemz ensue **. Ah, the good old "there is only one bed" trope. LOVE EEEET! Hope you do, too. ;)

Many thanks to my fabulous beta and BFF, **tempertemper**, without whom I'd never have the balls to post a single word.

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"This is all your fault."

The fact that his partner didn't answer, only glared back at him, was testament to the truth of his statement.

That knowledge did little to make him feel better though.

In fact, Seeley Booth could honestly think of nothing that would make him feel better in the current situation. Even if he were ever to be tortured (or inebriated) to the point of admitting that he'd fantasized about Temperance Brennan - had envisioned her scantily clad, handcuffed to his bed, beautiful chest heaving, cheeks flushed - it certainly was never meant to be like this: both of them cuffed, one to each post of the giant bed in the luxury VIP suite of one of the grandest hotels in the nation.

.:.

_Booth's teeth clenched, his jaw working overtime as he squared away the details with the uniformed officer assigned to the perp now being treated for cuts and abrasions... oh and a bullet-shattered wrist. They would need to speak with him as soon as possible._

_Turning back to his partner, his eyes didn't quite meet hers and there was no trace of a smile._

_"Ange, I'm fine. I'll be back at the lab soon - we'll need to compare the murder weapon." Ending the call from her concerned friend, Brennan moved toward her pacing partner. "Booth..."_

_He raised a finger in front of her face, "You. Don't say anything", his lips forming a thin line, clearly reigning himself in. His hand dropped to grip her shoulder and pull her into a nearby alcove and away from prying eyes._

_"You can't talk to me like that, Booth. Let me go."_

_His fingers gripped harder and she knew she'd have the marks to prove it later. "Shut up, Bones."_

_Her eyes narrowed to slits and her lips parted to do exactly the opposite._

_Booth's other hand came up quickly to slam against the wall next to her head._

_She couldn't help but flinch, her eyes wide. She didn't think she'd ever seen him this angry... at least not directed at her._

_He moved closer, leaning in, his tone deadly serious. "You. Broke. Protocol. Bones."_

_"I-" she began her retort but was quickly cut off as he released her shoulder and placed a trembling fingertip against her lips._

_"You were almost killed. You deliberately..."_

_She pushed her head back flush against the wall, the pain resulting from the action going unnoticed, placing just enough distance between his finger and her lips to say, "I'm not the one being treated for injuries in the Emergency Room."_

_"Because I shot the bastard before he could crack your skull," he seethed through his teeth._

_"Maybe if I had a gun-"_

_"Fuck that, Bones. You intentionally engaged a killer. You are lucky to be alive."_

_"I can take care of myself, Booth. You hadn't arrived and he was..."_

_"Because you went there without me! God, what would possess you to do that?"_

_"The same thing..." Her eyes locked on his and her voice lowered, but lost none of its intensity. "The same thing that always possesses me... us. What he did to that girl, Booth..."_

_Booth brought both hands to his head and pressed hard against his temples. "How many times do we have to revisit this? I understand your motivation, it's mine, too. But it's not worth putting your life in danger. There's a lot of bad guys out there, Bones. There's only one of you. And those victims need you."_ I need you. _It was evident in his eyes._

_"They need you too, Booth." She said with utter sincerity._

_"We FBI agents are a dime a dozen - and we're trained for that." His hands came to rest on her shoulders, lightly this time. "I can't lose you, Bones."_

_"Booth..."_

_"No, I'm serious. You're too important..."_ To me.

_It was another of those moments they'd found themselves in over and over again. Time seemingly standing still, pivoting on a revelation, poised in wait of a decision with momentous potential._

_It'd been nearly six months since they'd returned from their separate leaves of absence. Six months of re-acclimating to civilian life, to their rigorous job schedule, to new obligations... and to one another. Despite their best intentions, the year they'd spent apart had affected them - professionally and personally. The first few weeks back had been trying, tiring... yet ultimately fulfilling, affirming. They'd proven they were still them. The best. And they were home._

_The moment hung - his hands gripping the fabric of her jacket, pulling her closer inch-by-blessed-inch - until the decision was taken out of their hands._

_"Agent Booth?"_

_His eyes clung to hers until, at last, he pulled away to answer the man calling his name. "Yes, Officer."_

_"The doctor needs to speak with you, sir."_

_"Thanks. I'll be right there." Then back to Brennan. "This isn't finished."_

_Her lips pursed but she otherwise remained silent and followed her partner back to the treatment suite._

_Nodding at the doctor to begin, the partners received the news concerning their prime suspect. He would need surgery before going anywhere. Their interrogation would have to wait until morning._

_"Is he awake?"_

_"Well, yes. But he needs to be treated right away before tissue necro-"_

_"We'll be quick," Booth nodded and pushed into the room where their guy lay, his good wrist cuffed to the bed rail._

_The greasy smile the man gave Booth quickly turned into a lecherous sneer as Brennan entered the room behind him. "Ah, came back for more, did ya, pretty?"_

_His smarmy laugh was cut off by a strong hand at his throat and a face full of angry Agent. "You don't look at her, you ass. Tell me who you're working for. Who hired you to kill Allison Summers?"_

_Despite the pressure on his windpipe, Landon managed to strangle out a laugh and snarled, "She was a pretty one, fought like a wildcat." A stream of spit ran out the crevice of his mouth. "Loved the hair, so smooth and black, like a panther - that's why I kept it."_

_"Bastard," Booth heard his partner seethe behind him._

_A well-placed elbow pressed the injured man's shattered wrist into his chest where it was restrained with a sling-like contraption. "Fuck! You can't do that, man!"_

_Booth felt the bones shift beneath his weight as he pressed a fraction harder. "The fuck I can't. Who hired you?"_

_The tears of pain streaming from Travis Landon's rheumy eyes had no emotional impact on the man in front of him, the man who not only saw skeletal remains, beaten, broken and brutalized, but also a beautiful, vibrant young woman with miles of potential; a life cut too short by the hand he was currently crushing._

_"Cooperate, Travis, and maybe you won't get the death penalty."_

_Just before his eyes closed in the only way his body could find relief from the pain, Landon whispered two words. Two words that had Booth off of him like a shot and heading for the door, pushing his partner ahead of him and out of the company of yet another deranged bastard who'd tried to kill her._

.:.

"I told you to wait in the car."

"We're partners. You should know by now I'm not going to do that."

There was silence for a bit as Booth clenched and unclenched his jaw, attempting to regain the control that had been steadily slipping all damn day. He took a deep breath and finally looked at her, studying her closely for the first time since they'd been left alone. "Are you okay?"

She met his eyes and saw only warmth and concern there. Taking a mental inventory, rattling her wrist in the cuffs a bit, she answered, "I have a slight headache. From earlier. Other than that, and the fact I'm cuffed to a bed with no foreseeable means of escape, I'm fine."

Booth went through their options once again, his eyes flitting around the room to their cell phones tossed in the corner, the room phone pulled from the wall, the expanse of luxurious rooms in the suite between them and the main door. They'd already tried yelling, but a penthouse suite in the swanky Willard Hotel did not lend itself to thin walls.

He shook his head and bumped it several times against the headboard behind him. "I can't believe I let a fucking political douchebag get the drop on me."

"It's not like you had much choice," Brennan didn't hesitate to respond, even though she knew it incriminated her further. She knew Booth would never let anything happen to her so his actions during the standoff, though difficult, were predictable.

Booth acknowledged that anything that threatened her safety was not a viable choice in the first place. The look in her eyes as he'd realized what was going to happen to them, her nod of acquiescence, it was all too fresh, too raw. He'd have died ripping the aide to the White House Press Secretary's ass to shreds before he'd let him hurt Bones. Fortunately, the slime-ball's first priority seemed to be running.

Booth's eyes darkened and his jaw set once more against the thoughts playing through his head. The what-if's brought the worry-induced anger back to the forefront. His right wrist ached where the cuffs were rubbing and his arm was falling asleep twisted above his head. He pushed off the bed, rotating his wrist to grab the chain of the cuffs, pulling over and over again in another desperate attempt.

"Booth."

He twisted around to look at the bed's construction again - maybe they'd missed something earlier. He kicked at the bedpost.

"Booth!"

Still solid as fuck. Of all the times to wish they were in a shit-ass motel with cheap pressboard furniture. He felt his partner's eyes on him as he basically threw a tantrum like a two-year-old. But he just didn't care anymore.

Brennan stretched as far as her cuffed right hand would allow, reaching her left arm across the bed and grabbing what part of her partner she could reach - which just happened to be the waistband of his pants. She tugged hard, sending him tumbling back to the bed, his head landing against her chest and his arm pulling tight against the cuffs.

"Oof! Bones! What the hell?"

"You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Not if you kill me first!"

Their eyes met and before they knew it they were smiling, their faces stretching wide as they dissolved into stress-freeing peals of laughter. Their movements caused Booth to slide further down her body, his head coming to rest in her lap, her left arm across his chest, hand cradling his shoulder. As their laughter calmed, their heavy breaths slowed and their eyes met.

With no warning, Booth turned into her and kissed her stomach through her shirt. She sucked in a breath as warmth spread through her, his simple touch and heavy gaze upon her enough to cloud her usually crystal clear mind. Seemingly without her consent, her fingers began stroking his neck, her thumb tracing his ear.

"You really scared me earlier, Bones." He nuzzled his cheek against her stomach, his eyes closing in equal parts concealment of his current emotions and pleasure from her soothing touch.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Booth." She swallowed past the lump formed in her throat and continued to smooth her fingers along his hairline, her palm against his cheek.

"I can't lose you, baby." His free hand stroked along her arm.

"Booth..." Her eyes widened at the emotion in his voice, how the echo of his words from earlier took on new meaning. The way the endearment slipping off his tongue along with his touch caressed her every nerve ending to attention. "Booth, I can't... I can't give you what you need."

"God dammit, we're not doing this again, Bones." He raised up onto his elbow, stretching his cuffed arm to its limit to be as close to her as possible. "All I need is you. You. Just as you are, Bones. No changing. Have we learned nothing from the past year and a half?"

She opened her mouth, seemingly to protest and he stopped her the only way he currently had available to him. His lips. On hers. Vehemently. He stretched against his bonds as much as they would allow, hoping against hope that this insane attempt would render a different outcome.

It was a revisit to a moment each of them had longed to do over. Long nights spent staring at skies full of matching stars had often brought them mentally to that same point in time, that same crossroads, wondering if wishing for another chance could possibly allow them to make things right.

_Would she again push him away?_ He had hope she wouldn't. He had to admit that his greatest fear was that she'd reject him - again. But he hoped that this time he could get through to her.

_Should she push him away?_ She recalled how lonely she had felt in the middle of a humid jungle on the other side of the world. And she didn't have to dig deep now to discover she still felt the same. 'Alone' had taken on a whole new meaning now - for both of them. And she realized the last thing she wanted to do was push him away. He was right.

When he registered that she hadn't pulled back - quite the opposite in fact, as after only a few seconds she'd given in and moved her lips over his with a small whimper of need - he couldn't quite believe it.

He didn't stop to question her or seek reassurances when her actions were speaking quite loudly - her hand in his hair keeping him close, her tongue stroking his, her sighs and murmurs music to his ears. He shifted slightly to grab the headboard with his cuffed hand, giving himself more leverage and allowing his left hand to roam - cupping her cheek, skimming her arm, resting on her waist, her hip.

His words, his kisses, his touch stoked a fire in her like she'd never felt before. She trailed her hand down his chest, chanting between kiss after hot kiss. "You're right, you're right..."

Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed, "I can't believe I finally get to touch you and I _can't_ really touch you. God, baby."

"Booth..."

"Yeah?" And as he searched her eyes, her hand slipped lower, fingers pulling once again at his waistband before boldly cupping him through his suit pants. As if there was any mistaking her need... "Shit, we're gonna figure this out, Bones."

He rose up onto his knees and threw the pile of pillows at the headboard to the foot of the bed, half of them falling to the floor. Reading him, she moved onto her knees in front of him, pulling his lips to hers once more. "We can make this work," she whispered against his lips and he didn't question whether she meant the mechanics of their current situation or the grand scheme of things... he knew both were true.

He was once again losing himself in kissing her, pressing her back against the headboard, when he felt her left hand tugging at his belt buckle, loosening it and heading for his button and zipper. His hand fumbled at her own closures, stopping only when she reached her prize and pleasure overtook him. "Bones." He whispered her name as both prayer and plea. "Help me with yours, babe."

She reluctantly released him and helped him push her clothing off her hips and down her legs. She sat back to let him pull them over her feet and off.

"God, you're gorgeous." His fingers trailed back up her leg to her inner thigh as she reclined against the headboard. Her gasp as his fingers traced along the curls barely hidden by her shirt elicited a very physical response from him.

She smiled coyly at seeing his cock jump in front of her and reached forward to pull him towards her. Gripping him at the base, she stroked his smooth skin, circling the head with a fingertip before leaning forward and imitating the movement with her tongue.

Before she could take it any further, he pulled back with a groan and leaned forward to kiss her again. The frustration of not being able to do this 'right' steadily built inside him. Not being able to touch and kiss and adore every square inch of her fucking beautiful body... well, it was pissing him the hell off.

Leaning over her the best he could, he lifted her shirt and kissed down her bare stomach, nibbling at her hip as he reached her creamy thigh. "God, I can smell you, baby." He kissed her mound and knew with certainty he would not live until he could eat her. "Spread your legs, Bones. I gotta taste you..."

She obliged by bending her knee and lifting her leg up and over him, spreading herself wide open in front of him. Her free hand smoothed down the still-closed row of buttons on her shirt and along her thigh, beckoning him in invitation.

He cursed under his breath at the sight before him - not just the obvious, but everything about her: her tousled hair, the sexy look on her face as she reclined against the headboard, her wrist cuffed to the bed. And back down to the beauty glistening between her legs. Fuck, she was breathtaking - so much so he could no longer form words. His tongue and mouth were meant for one thing only at this point.

He leaned forward onto his elbow, his left hand cupping her hip and outside of her thigh, pulling her down even further, bringing her into reach of his lips. A simple kiss atop her hooded clit and she was already moaning and pushing herself towards him for more. He swiped his tongue flat along the entire length of her, lapping up her wetness before slipping the tip into her moist heat. Delicious.

He plunged, he swirled, he tried his best to use his tongue as he would his other hand; called on every skill he could think of to bring her to the edge of pleasure. He pressed himself as far down into the bed - and her - as he could, not even feeling the abrasions he was causing to his restrained wrist, and completely wrapped his free arm around her outside leg until his fingers could just graze her clit. _One more inch..._

"Oh God, Booth!"

_Yeah, right there_, he congratulated himself as she shattered around him. He continued to lick and suck lightly, helping her ride out the moment.

He kissed her thigh and groaned as he untangled himself from her and sat back to his knees. His wrist was throbbing now, his shoulder and back pinging, but no distraction was enough for him to take his eyes off her. Her heaving chest, her jaw slack in obvious pleasure. "That was so hot, baby." He wiped his mouth with his hand and leaned down to kiss her shoulder.

She reached her free hand for him and found his knee, his pants still on but open and bunched around his hips. "You... I need..." And she raised up beside him, taking him in her hand once again. His rigid length so hard, so smooth beneath her palm. So _hers_.

He grunted and kneaded his fingers into her hair. "I know this is our first time, Bones. But if I could, I'd be fucking you so hard right now."

She inhaled at his words then bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment as she continued to stroke him. Aching for him. Aching for a solution.

He kissed her eyelids, her cheek, her lips. Pushed his free hand under her shirt to cup her thus far neglected breasts. And this made him even more mad at their situation. She had god-damn perfect boobs and he hadn't even seen them yet. "God, I would be sucking your tits, baby. I'd be everywhere you wanted me, everywhere you needed me."

And then her hand moved to his shoulder and she pushed him away, rotating to face away from him on her knees and leaning forward on her left hand. Her pert, round ass raised in the air, she looked over her shoulder and smiled, "Will this work?"

He licked his lips. _Fuck, was she blushing? Hell yeah._ "Oh, baby. This definitely works." He moved into position behind her, pulling her to him and slipping his fingers across her slit to add some of her moisture to his on the tip of his throbbing cock.

He'd just touched her entrance when it hit him. "Fuck Bones, do we need-"

"Pill," she said as she rocked back into him, enveloping the first few inches of his dick.

"Oh shit, baby."

He thrust then, seating himself deep into her tight walls.

"Booth!"

"Yeah, that's right, Bones. This... this... so fuckin' right."

His free hand pulled at her hip, slamming them together, each time he bottomed out in her sending waves of building pleasure through the both of them.

She leaned forward a little further, bracing her upper body on her forearm and effectively changing the angle for both of them. "Fuck, Booth... you feel so good."

He released her hip, feeling her taking over their hard-rocking rhythm and reached around to her clit - massaging hard. "So good, baby. Come for me, Bones. I'm right there with ya."

It was building within her, taking her to new heights. She pushed back into him harder and harder, his perfect counterpoint, and then he pinched her and she was gone. Over the edge. Grasping him, clenching around him, falling into him.

He pulled her back to him so hard, they both rocked back, him on his knees and her on to his lap - seating him so deep inside her, and that was all it took. His whole body shook as he released within her, his wordless groan muffled as he bit down onto her shoulder.

She was limp against him, still coming down herself, both breathing so hard, so fast. Together.

He kissed the side of her neck, nuzzled into her hair. "I love you, Temperance. You gotta know that, right?"

She just nodded and turned her head to kiss him softly, sweetly. Then she started to laugh.

His hand wrapped around her waist and he smiled against her ear. "What? Not sure if this is good for my ego..."

"Your ego is fine. My wrist really hurts though. And something is digging into my..."

They both groaned as she shifted up, his semi-hard cock slipping from her, and she felt behind her.

"Hey, watch the hands!"

She found the object doing the "digging" - his belt buckle had been wedged against the bottom of her thigh. She had the beginnings of a transfer pattern where it had been pressed against her skin. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He wittily replied, "Just trying to brand you mine, baby. All other men need to know to back off!" and offered her a charm smile just before he kissed the smirk off of her lips and swallowed any anthropological retort.

After a few moments, they worked together to redress in case of rescue. Upon re-evaluating their predicament once more, their only hope was for someone to find them - either housekeeping or the combined efforts of their team putting together some of the facts. They shifted to find as comfortable a position as they could, all things considered, her on her back, him on his stomach, with as much of their bodies touching one another as possible.

"Think we should talk about this while we can't possibly run away or go anywhere?"

She reached across to take his offered hand. "I'm okay. Are you?"

He watched her face and saw no sign that she wasn't being completely honest with him. "I'm good, Bones. We're good."

"Good," she said simply, before closing her eyes. He watched her for a bit, her breath evening into sleep, a soft smile never leaving her face, then drifted away himself.

.:.

The next morning, the partners were roused by their squints and a team of Agents, accompanied by the hotel manager.

After determining that they were physically okay, Angela glared at them with a look full of unsubstantiated knowledge. She moved toward Brennan, who was having her chafed wrist bandaged by an EMT, and leaned in to whisper, "No way you could resist, huh sweetie?"

Brennan looked over to her partner who had a matching bandage of his own and was currently speaking to another agent. Raising her eyebrow at Ange, she replied, "Could you?"

Booth questioned the lead agent who'd essentially stepped in when he and his partner had fallen off the grid. "Patterson?"

"Nabbed this morning in Virginia."

Booth nodded, distracted for a moment by laughter and hugs between Bones and Angela, and he and the agent made arrangements to get together at the Hoover later for a full debrief.

"I could go for some coffee, Bones." He led her away from the crowded room and toward the main door.

She rubbed her bandaged wrist as they walked, turning to look back at him as she pulled open the door and winked. "My place?"

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. "You have _the_ best coffee, babe," he whispered, kissing her temple as the door shut behind them. "Among other things."

_fin_


	5. I'm rising to my feet

**Chase This Light #5**

I'm rising to my feet

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**Rating (this chapter):** T

**Pairing:** Angela/Hodgins

**Spoilers:** 06x01: The Mastodon in the Room

**Summary:** Booth and Brennan. A bed and handcuffs. ... It's not what you think. Okay, maybe it is... a little. ;)

**Word Count:** ~700

**Disclaimer:** Found in Chapter 1

**Note:** Written for the first round of the **fox_las** Last Author Standing competition. Prompt: [character] reads a book about themselves. This story was titled 'Stay Here Happy' for the competition and placed first in that round. :)

*has a major snogging session with **tempertemper** best beta, best friend, best everything*

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_"I'm your guy. I love you. I love you and I want to help you in whatever way I can. If-if you want to move in together, if-if you want to get married...I'm here for you. And for the baby. In whatever role you need."_

_~Jack Stanley Hodgins, _05x12: The Proof in the Pudding

I always liked Hodgins - quirky, romantic, hot ;) - but after that speech, that moment where he admitted his love for Angela had not dwindled and was still strong enough to sustain them as a family... that's when I fell in love with JSH. And though there was happy relief among them all when Angela wasn't pregnant with Wendell's child, can you imagine how much stronger these current moments are for Jack and Ange because of it? Yeah, I can... therefore, I give you this :

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The journal is filling quickly - words, sketches, hopes and dreams lining the starched pages. She keeps it close, never knowing when inspiration might strike.

And as she dozes in his arms, he considers the bound book; finally reaching across, snagging it with two fingers, trying not to disturb her much-needed slumber. He removes the elastic band holding the cover shut and thumbs past the first few pages - their poetry and prose already known to him. He pauses at a pen-and-ink drawing, loops and swirls, shadings of dark and light and _baby_ - his love's abstract interpretation of what their child's environment must be like now.

Seeing this experience through his wife's eyes - through her words and her art - and watching the changes in her body every day... it's been the most amazing period of his life thus far. It just keeps getting better.

He flips a few pages to a more recent entry, traces the curves of her words wrapping around the flattened petals of a pressed stem, the aroma of cut flowers still fresh. And he can't help his smile as a word catches his eye.

Daddy.

_Oh baby, I hope that one day you are half as lucky as me. Your Daddy sent me flowers at work today for no reason._

And just below, the card attached, with his words: _"You are so beautiful, this is me agreeing to change every diaper. See what you do to me? I love you, Angie. ~J"_

He kisses his wife's hair and smooths a few strands behind her ear, then continues to read her words.

_I can't imagine loving anyone more than your Daddy. But every time I feel your fluttering kicks, your jerky little hiccups inside me, I know it's possible. And then I love him even more because he gave me you. It's a cycle I never want to end._

"Oh babe, I love you so much," Jack whispers as he closes the book and lays it aside. He shifts to pull his wife closer, one hand drifting to span her waist and palm the swell of her belly. "Even though our kid deserves way better than me."

"No such thing," she mumbles into his chest, lacing their fingers together. Tilting her head, she kisses his shoulder and gazes at him with sleepy eyes and a beautiful smile.

He raises himself to an elbow and hovers above her, his other hand gently lowering her head to her pillow. He feels like the luckiest bastard alive and before she can say another word, he kisses her gently, eyes wide open, never wanting to forget the details of this moment.

He drifts, tracing his favorite work of art with his lips, breath, tongue. Whispering words of fatherly love to their unborn child, before speaking a different language to his lover, one all their own.

She has touched him deeply with her words, with her love, with her soul. She is priceless, she is loved, and he sets out to prove it to her as often as she'll let him.

_fin.  
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Hope you enjoyed - comments are a great way to let me know one way or the other! ;)  
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